Remember
by Phinea
Summary: Third year again ... with many twists. Focuses on Remus mostly. Some new characters, and one you only think you haven't met. Short chapters. Complete.
1. Empty Spaces

Disclaimer: If you recognize anything, that means it belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I have to say it's hers because she doesn't share nicely. Maybe she never went to preschool. Anyway, if you don't recognize it, it belongs to me, except for Cambri, who shows up in the second chapter and belongs to my dear friend and coauthor.  
  
Author's Note—please enjoy this story I killed myself to write. Review and I'll love you forever no matter what you say. And don't worry – it gets more interesting in chapter two.  
  
Remember  
  
Chapter One Empty Spaces  
  
"Empty spaces What are we living for? Abandoned places I guess we know the score ..."  
—Queen  
  
Remus walked into the room and stopped, taking a deep breath. It all had the smell of a summer classroom, coagulating ink and slightly dusty parchment, settled chalk dust and the merest hint of furniture polish. He closed the door firmly behind him and surveyed the classroom. He was surprised that the classroom didn't seem quite as big as it once had, that it hadn't grown up with him. It was a reaction he'd read in a thousand bad novels and a handful of better ones, but it didn't hit home until now.  
His battered suitcase was leaned against the office door, waiting for him to come into his quarters. Now he just examined his new workplace, the neat rows of student desks, and the big, heavy desk at the front of the room. Someone had kindly left a candle burning there. Also there were a few notes. He sat down in the wooden chair, which rolled smoothly across the floor. He took his wire-rimmed glasses from his lapel pocket and read the first one. It was in spiky, crabbed handwriting almost too tiny to read. Lupin -- I have your potion simmering and will keep it going at all times to prevent tragedies, but do remember to remind me when you need it -- I don't keep track of these things.  
That must be from Snape. Remus chuckled wearily. Of course, he was too busy being irritated with his students to keep track of the phases of the moon. The next one was from Professor McGonagall. Dear Remus, I am very glad that you've come to work with us. I am sure you will be an asset to Hogwarts. Below is your course schedule for the year. Minerva.  
"Yes," he said aloud, rudding his eyes behind his glasses. "I'm sure I'll be an asset, considering the last one. Wanderings with Werewolves, eh? He could at least have gotten someone to edit the thrice-damned thing ... Homorphus Charm, what an idiot. I only wish ..."  
The rest were simple notes of welcome from other teachers ... Professor Sinistra, Professor Vector, and Hagrid. Remus smiled a little. How he was going to get used to using their first names, he had no idea.  
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He would have gone to bed, but after his hours of sleep on the train and the adrenaline of the dementor attack, he felt drained, but not in the least sleepy. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He was, in fact, feeling a little restless. Rising, he spied a cage in the corner with a curling label affixed to its base. He unfurled the strip of parchment and read it. In flourish-heavy handwriting and electric-blue ink, it read, "Cornish Pixies -- Handle with Care."  
"I think I can do better than that with Dark creatures," Remus said softly. Fourth year had been the year he learned about Dark creatures -- he'd even assigned his classes the same textbook he had used. It had been a fascinating subject for him. The teacher was less than desirable, however -- was, in fact, the only teacher who had ever failed him out of a class. That woman had very nearly landed him in Remedial Defense, a class which was thankfully no longer offered. No matter -- Remus didn't intend that any of his students would need a remedial class.  
He walked down the aisle among the desks. Then he stopped, his sharp eyes having caught something he remembered.  
This was Sirius's old seat. The next one was James', then his own, then Peter's. He put his glasses back on, but he didn't need to -- he knew these desks by heart. In the lower right-hand corner of the aisle seat the initials SL(b)3 were scratched deeply into the well-waxed golden wood. Sirius Lockthorne (Black) III. Remus smiled for a brief moment, then a colder expression took its place.  
He went to the windows and threw them open to air his classroom before tomorrow's morning of first years. He worked from the front of the room to the back, then walked back up the center aisle. The desks hadn't been changed in the entire sixteen years he'd been out of school. He knew every initial carved into the wood, every slightly splintery place. One desk he reached out and rocked as he went past. One leg was just a little shorter. Everyone always intended to fix that desk, but no one ever did. When he'd started school, there had been an old Encyclopedia of Magical Molds wedged under that leg. The slender, spineless volume had been just right to keep it steady. But someone had taken it -- come to think of it, he might have snagged it himself when he was stuck on his Potions homework, always intending to return it, just like everyone intended to fix the leg in the first place.  
He went up to the office that served as combination workroom and living room. Beyond it was a tiny bedroom. He left his suitcase in there. He could unpack his modest wardrobe later, and bring back the spellbooks and a few other items. He'd decided to make packing and unpacking easy on himself, after being kicked out of an apartment home for the second time. It all pleased him; there was a simple tan quilt on the bed, and a cranberry-red rug on the floor before the little fireplace provided all the color he needed. It was a bit plain, and he preferred that. He'd half- expected to be assailed by more evidence of his predecessor.  
Next he went back to the office. Remus smiled a little as he sat down behind the enormous, heavy carved desk. He'd been hauled up in front of it with his friends often enough for the irony to strike. He could smell a faint whiff of cologne still, and he wrinkled his nose. He rarely actually liked people who wore cologne; he wondered whether he just could smell it more strongly, rendering the scent unpleasant. Sirius had been wearing some sort of aftershave since age thirteen, but then, that was Sirius.  
Having caught himself reminiscing, Remus started to rummage through the desk in order to distract himself. In one drawer he found some very ostentatious eagle-father quills. Some of the smaller ones he might use. The peacock ones he just threw away. In the same drawer were several bottles of ink. Remus kept the bottle-green, the dark blue, and even the dark red; the lilac had to go.  
Still not ready to sleep, he transferred all the books out of his suitcase and onto the bookshelves. He returned the suitcase to the closet. There was a great deal of room still left in it. There were also a couple of small pictures: one of Lily and James being silly in a park shortly after their wedding, one of all the Marauders and respective girlfriends, one of his parents and brother. He set these on a small set of drawers, out of the way. He had no desire to flaunt his personal life to any student who came into his office. On second thought, he moved them into the bedroom, wondering briefly whether this was called being territorial or being paranoid.  
In the desk which was in the classroom, he found more of the lilac ink. This he set outside the door to be redistributed by the house-elves. This, too, had been otherwise cleared of the odious stamp of Lockhart's personality.  
He straightened and looked around the classroom. It was achingly familiar, even bared of any teacher's signature. He'd like a tank of grindylows in the back, he decided. He could share them with Hagrid. Hagrid would probably be delighted to catch him some, too, and if he had any trouble with anything ... Hagrid had managed to acquire some interesting specimens over the years, some of which Remus had been privileged to see.  
I'm never going to get to sleep tonight, Remus thought despairingly. It's nearly midnight, and my brain's going full steam now.  
He sat down to write out his curriculum, deciding to channel the energy into something constructive. No one here had gotten an education in Dark creatures, so the lesson plans would be almost the same from year to year. He would be careful, though, not to give anyone more than they could handle -- he had no desire to be the most difficult teacher in the school, or the most disliked. Not that he probably could, with Snape lurking in the dungeons ... Actually, it wasn't all the same, it just overlapped. He wouldn't teach his first years about vampires, and he wouldn't start out seventh years with doxies. It was all logic.  
He got deeply involved in his work, and had almost finished the basic, sketchy lesson plan for the year, when he finally glanced at the clock and groaned. It was almost four in the morning. If he slept now, it would be even worse a couple of hours later, when he had to be up and dressed for the first class of the day. So he wouldn't sleep.  
He reckoned up the dates of the full moon and started figuring out where he would be in the lesson plans. Dumbledore and Snape would probably help him there. Both were qualified, naturally, Dumbledore being the head of the Order of the Phoenix and Snape knowing so much about the Dark Arts he ought to be able to teach about defending oneself against them.  
Remus went to the bookshelf and took out a history book he hadn't yet finished. It was tattered volume full of fascinating decriptions of dark secrets, wicked conspiracies, horrible torture and bloody coups. James and Sirius would have loved it. It was shorter and far more interesting than the text. He made himself some tea with the chipped tea set, read his own leaves and found nothing good, and remained absorbed in his book until a quarter of nine. Then he straightened himself out and went to meet his first class.  
  
Author's Note--So there's chapter one. See that little button down there? Click on it, okay, and tell me how much you hated it. Chapter two coming, and it's more fun. There'll be some actual dialogue in chapter three ... lots of it. Have a very, very good day. You deserve it for reading my story. 


	2. The Picture

Disclaimer – still not mine. Still belongs to this lady named J.K. Rowling. You might have heard of her.  
  
Author's note – still begging for reviews.  
  
Chapter Two The Picture  
  
"You don't remember me But I remember you I lie awake and try so hard Not to think of you But who can decide what they dream? And dream I do."  
—Evanescence  
  
Nine hours later, Remus collapsed into bed. His morning had consisted of two classes of first years; one Slytherin and Ravenclaw, one Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The children varied from being heartbreakingly nervous to being so arrogant he wanted to strangle them. His afternoon class was fifth years from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and that was the one which had most depleted him. He had the infamous Weasley twins, who had ironically taken the seats Sirius and James used to favor. Fortunately, they didn't appear to be planning any mischief for him at the moment ... he knew what it looked like when someone was plotting to wreak havoc.  
His first years had been a little easier, except for those who gave him the unsettling feeling they already knew whatever he might try to teach them. One in particular gave him this feeling, a Gryffindor named Dominic Cole. He almost seemed to fit better with the Slytherin students. On first impression, Remus predicted that he would have alienated half the school before Christmas. He remembered that the Sorting Hat had taken a good ten minutes to sort him, which hadn't done much for the nerves of the other first years. Dominic had not seemed at all nervous.  
After that came dinner, and the year's first staff meeting, complete with snide comments from Snape and the out-of-joint feeling that comes with a new place of employment.  
Opening his eyes, Remus found himself looking at one of his pictures. It was an old one, one he'd always loved. The picture had been taken -- he didn't remember who they'd roped into playing photographer -- after Gryffindor won the House Cup against Ravenclaw in their seventh year. Peter had been in it once, but he'd left the frame for some reason -- possibly embarassed at being the "extra" male in the picture. James was on the far left, Lily next to him, and Marsha next to Lily. Remus felt a stir of old grief when he looked at Marsha. Next to the girls sat Remus himself, then Sirius and his current girlfriend. They were sitting in a row under that familiar beech tree. James and Sirius were still in their Quidditch robes. Remus, Marsha and Lily defiantly wore little Ravenclaw pins on the front of their robes. James was very tousled, grinning at the camera. Lily was next to him, her dark chestnut hair tied back, smiling lightheartedly. And Marsha ... Remus was willing to admit (guardedly) that any girl was in shadow next to slender, aristocratic Lily, but in this picture, Marsha was alive with her own effervescent, penny-bright prettiness, her red-golden hair shining. Caught in the same mote-filled sunbeam, the girls looked like they ought to come as a set.  
It was also a rather flattering picture of Remus himself. He was giving the camera a gentle, ironic smile, which occasionally turned into an affectionate, half-exasperated glance toward Sirius. And Sirius was laughing, his hair falling slightly into his eyes, but like always as though he meant it that way. He'd been wearing it a bit long at the time, just barely long enough to annoy his mother. He looked perfectly delighted with life, his arm around the waist of his female companion.  
Remus didn't remember the girl in the picture. He'd always had an impression Sirius had chosen the nearest female and drafted her for the photograph. She was pretty, with long curly hair and bright green eyes, and had her head on Sirius's shoulder. Then, looking closer, Remus wondered why he couldn't remember this one. They certainly looked like they knew each other quite well. They were smiling at each other, completely lost in their own shared world, and suddenly Remus knew the real meaning of puppy love. And something else caught his eye ... in the picture, Sirius occasionally gestured proudly at the girl's left hand. Remus followed the gesture and saw that she was wearing a beautiful emerald ring.  
What in the world ...  
The pair was stunningly backlit, their jet-black hair and crimson robes glowing with a soft halo of gold. Sirius was only looking out of the picture half the time. He and his companion had eyes only for each other. She looked up at him, bright eyes sparkling, her long curly hair spilling over his robes. Even the most determined girls rarely looked that lovelorn with Sirius. Probably they didn't want to get their hopes up too far. He did remember the girl. What had been her name? If they'd been engaged ... and that was how it looked ... shouldn't Remus remember her name? Her face was familiar, but that could be only because he'd looked at this picture so long.  
It bothered him, a little ... more than a little. Deciding to sleep on that -- and everything else for that matter -- he turned over and tried to go to sleep.  
The girl was wearing Quidditch robes, too.  
"No," Remus told himself firmly. "I am going to sleep. Now. I'll  
remember later."  
He gave up after another minute, sat up in bed, and examined the picture closely. The girl was definitely in Quidditch robes. Now that he'd noticed that Sirius was indicating her ring, it seemed amazing he hadn't seen it long since.  
"I'm going to sleep," he insisted to himself. He lay down, waited a minute, then got back up, muttering to himself. He grabbed his shabby cloak, lit his wand, and set off for the trophy room.  
After a bit of searching and rummaging, he found it; the 1977 House Cup, balanced in a holder on the red and gold trophy plaque. He examined the gold plates arranged around its sides. At the bottom was the one that said "Captain: James Potter, Seeker." He started looking for female names. There were two girl Chasers, Leandra and Oriel; but he was sure it wasn't Leandra, and remembered Oriel being platinum blonde. Then Sirius' apparent fiancee had to be the Keeper.  
There it was, right next to the plaque that bore Sirius's name. "Cambri Terrangs, Keeper."  
Of course. Of course. How could he possibly have forgotten Cambri? She'd been one of his best friends, hadn't she? Yes; yes, she had. And that was definitely her in the picture. Yes -- Sirius had made Remus help him pick out an engagement ring. How could he have forgotten that?  
But to forget Cambri herself, who she was, that she ever even existed -- that was almost like forgetting Marsha. It must have been some powerful magic that made him forget her for so long. But why would such a spell be placed? And what had happened to Cambri?  
She'd married Sirius, hadn't she? Yes. He hazily remembered their wedding. And then ... she'd vanished. Three months into her marriage, she left home to visit the apothecary at Knockturn Alley, and no one ever saw her again. Sirius had been torn up --  
No. No. He hadn't been. Remus had sensed deception at the time, had sensed that the grief was all an act. He'd loved Cambri, though --  
And he "loved" James and Lily, didn't he? Remus thought cynically. We know he was a good actor.  
Then how was it that Remus didn't remember her? He racked his brains for a while, then gave up.  
But how ... He was working on a different problem again. If I knew he wasn't really that grieved ... sad, maybe, but not as depressed as he pretended ... If I knew, then how was it he fooled me when he pretended to love Cambri?  
Because he wasn't pretending. He loved her. He was slave to her every whim, that's how absolutely head-over-heels in love he was. (Isn't that how you're supposed to be? The back of his mind wondered.) He fell for her like I never thought Sirius could. I know because I know what love is. I had Marsha for those years and I know what it's like. He couldn't have fooled me.  
But then there's another problem. Betraying us would be betraying Cambri. And he wouldn't have done that, wouldn't have wanted even to insult her memory. Unless Cambri was already with the Dark Lord ...  
No, I'll never believe that. But I didn't believe it of Sirius either.  
  
She didn't do that. She wouldn't. She wouldn't ever.  
Remus gave up and went to bed. In the pesky way of answers, this one had just turned up more questions.  
  
Author's note – thanks for reading. Now could you review? Please? Tell me if you hated it, or even maybe liked it? (Yes, that was a compliment- fish, and a shameless one.) Chapter three up soon. There'll probably be nine chapters and an epilogue. 


	3. The Plot Thickens

Disclaimer – If it belonged to me, Sirius would stop being dead and Harry would stop whining and the twins would stop leaving and be there and Molly would stop being silly and vaporish. Therefore, we may assume that it's none of it mine. In fact, it probably belongs to JK Rowling, at least last time I checked it did.  
  
Chapter Three The Plot Thickens  
  
"It's always raining in my head Forget all the things I should have said."  
—Staind  
  
"Nicky."  
"Hello."  
She sat down on his bed. She was blurred in the dark beyond the edge of his wandlight, and kept her voice low. "Good book?"  
"Not really. Tolerable. What are you doing here?"  
"Making sure you're settled in. Gryffindor ... that was a surprise."  
"I know."  
"Is it all right if I say that I'm proud?"  
"Sure. Thanks." A long pause. "Don't tell me you came to tuck me in and give me a goodnight kiss."  
"Heavens, no. Demon child."  
"Bedtime story?"  
"You can read."  
"What is it, then?"  
"Just wanted to talk a little. You should go to sleep, though. How was  
your first day?"  
"Good. I like Professor Lupin."  
"You actually like someone? You?"  
"Shut up, Mother dear. If you hate me, you shouldn't have brought me  
back."  
"I didn't have a choice." Pause. "I don't hate you."  
"More of a mutual mild dislike, isn't it?"  
Her voice sharpened. "Are you going to continue acting like this?"  
"No. Sorry."  
"You are not."  
"Then leave me alone, if you're going to be sensitive."  
"Fine," she sighed, irritated as only Dominic Phineas Cole could irritate her. "Good night, Nicky."  
Firmly: "Good night." -------------------  
Remus had been relieved that no one asked him to be the Secret-Keeper for the Potters. He already kept many secrets, few of them his own. He was everyone's shoulder to cry on. When James was feeling particularly pained about Lily, it was Remus he talked to, sometimes for hours, until they both got in trouble for breaking curfew. He mediated in the occasional fight between Sirius and James.  
Only Remus knew, because Sirius had told him alone, that Sirius' mother did beat him sometimes. It was not a frequent occurrence – once each time he went home, so not often. Nonetheless, it happened, and it was Remus he confided in. He'd never even told Cambri the truth about that.  
In return, Remus knew he could go to any of them with his nightmares, and they would be ready with a hug and chocolate.  
And he woke up the next morning remembering something else. Cambri had also confided in him, telling him everything. She told him where she came from, who her parents were, and the strange things she could do. She knew he would guard the secrets as though he really were her Secret-Keeper.  
So overall, Remus really was glad no one had asked him to be the real Secret-Keeper. He'd found out since, that he couldn't have in any case; the Fidelius Charm could only be performed when the Secret-Keeper was under the influence of a potion. This potion contained just enough silver that it would have done horrible things to Remus if he ingested it.  
Glad, yes, Remus thought, lying in bed half-awake in the earliest hour of daylight. Glad; but if he'd been the Secret-Keeper, if he wasn't a bloody werewolf and could have been the Secret-Keeper, Sirius couldn't have sold out James and Lily.  
Thinking of this brought back his speculations about Cambri with stunning force. He groaned. And then, he remembered what he'd dreamed.  
He'd dreamed a perfect memory of when Cambri told him everything.  
Remus pulled the blankets over his head.  
  
Author's Note – see, I told you there would be dialogue. I would love some reviews – in fact I would give up ice cream if it meant reviews. But giving up ice cream won't help at all, so maybe if people love me, I could have both! 


	4. Long Live Memory

Disclaimer – still not mine. Never will be mine. Never was mine. In no alternate universe is it mine. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW???  
  
Chapter Four Long Live Memory "We turn away to face the cold, enduring chill As the day begs the night for mercy Your sun so bright it leaves no shadows, Only scars."  
—U2  
  
For about a year when Remus was nine, the transformation worsened enormously. His frightened parents replaced the door of his room with a stronger, solider one. At the full moon, he had to be chained to restrain him.  
His older brother, Ambrose, had his theories as to why this was happening. Ambrose was himself a werewolf. He'd been the one who'd bitten Remus. He had a couple of theories, but there was one he credited. He didn't think, as his mother did, that his brother's pain came from the onset of puberty; Remus was too young for that. No; Remus was sensing the tension in the house. When Ambrose was bitten, it had strained relations between the boy's parents a great deal. Remus, he thought, would probably be the last straw. Less than a year later, he was proved correct in that instance. But that was not here, not now; now Remus tore everything in reach to splinters three nights a month. And then he chewed up the splinters, so his mouth and throat bled in the morning.  
It was the first evening of the full moon, and Ambrose was already brooding in his room. Remus descended the stairs to get something to eat. His mother was away, talking to some specialist in hopes he could cure her sons. His father was in the kitchen, reading a novel. He looked up when his second son entered the kitchen, and looked very startled. "Remus?" he asked. "What is it?"  
"I wanted something to eat," Remus said, in an uncharacteristically rough voice. "Wooden furniture isn't appetizing. What, you think I should be back in my cage?" His voice lost its toughness and began to tremble a little. "Ambrose hasn't come to help me get chained up yet, so I have time. Should I stay tied up like a good pet werewolf? Is that better?"  
For the first time in nine years, Remus' father struck him. Then he stared at his own hand, then at the matching print on the boy's face, shocked. Father and son stared at each other. Then Remus' quiet, sedate, undemonstrative father came and took his son in his arms. "Remus," he whispered. "Never think of yourself that way. You're not an animal, you're my son, and a damned fine boy you are. I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to hit you ..."  
Remus started crying, but not because of the slap, which hadn't even hurt that much. In the kitchen doorway, Ambrose stiffened a moment, then relaxed. Remus was all right. And if he hadn't been – he didn't know what he would have done. He'd been the one to bite Remus four years ago, and he would never quite live down the guilt of that. He would have struck out if Remus was really hurt. Remus was more than a little brother; he was Ambrose's friend, his packmate, and he would not be held responsible for his actions if anyone – even their father – injured that boy.  
He came forward and gently separated his father and brother. "Come on, Remus," he said softly. "If I'm going to get you ready, you'll have to live on the furniture a bit longer. Sorry."  
A short time later, alone, chained and helpless, Remus' body shook with the transformation, and he screamed with pain, hearing his own cries and those of his brother in the next room. That was the worst change he'd ever lived through. The other times, he had known, grimly, that he would survive it. This time he wasn't sure.  
  
Remus had that nightmare pretty frequently. He'd awakened from it on one particular occasion in Godric's Hollow, when staying with the Potters. He slept in the room that had belonged to James' late uncle Theophilus. There were a pair of twin beds in this room, and Cambri had the other one, because she was staying there too.  
Remus was pretty well practiced at waking from nightmares without a sound, and he was sure he'd done the same this time. He woke up with his face wet. Well, and why not? He would be all right, but he had to let the emotions out.  
Somehow, though, Cambri woke up too.  
"I don't mean to," she'd explained. "I have a ... gift. If someone is dreaming of a memory, I pick it up sometimes. I didn't know I could do it with you. But memories are ... shall we say ... my strong suit." That was all the information Remus really needed. But she'd told him more – the origin of her abilities and how she could use them. And she'd told him where she came from. That had been the real shock.  
Needless to say, neither of them had slept again that night.  
Back in the present, Remus shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts and left the office. It was a late, lazy sort of afternoon – the first Friday of the school year. Remus had come to no further conclusions about Cambri, and it frustrated him. He had, however, had his class with Harry. In an amusing twist, Harry had taken the seat Sirius had favored. His friend Ron Weasley had chosen the seat that had belonged to James up to mid-fifth year. After that, though, it had become Cambri's. Come to think of it ... Cambri hadn't always been at Hogwarts, he recalled. She'd become their friend in that fifth year ... the year Snape almost died, the year his relationship with Marsha had gone beyond that of homework partners, and the year Sirius fell desperately, hopelessly in love with Cambri. The year the Marauder's Map was stunningly completed. The year they blew up Filch's office, the year they changed the password into the prefect's bathroom, the year that infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts jinx took effect. O.W.L. year, career advice year, and the year Cambri came.  
When had he forgotten her? It must have taken an enormously powerful charm, and he'd never felt that there was anything missing. But how could he so completely forget someone like a sister, someone who was part of his life? Remus tried to ignore the problem, throwing himself into his job. After all, it was a teaching job he'd always really wanted.  
Dominic Cole continued to fascinate him in an odd, intuitive way. It had not escaped Remus' far-sighted eyes that he refused to be in the company of a Weasley. Especially Ginny Weasley. And whenever Ginny laid eyes on him – at the table, for instance, or in the halls – it didn't seem she could look away.  
Dominic, however, continued in his efforts to rid himself of anything resembling the liking of his schoolmates. Remus increased his estimate: by Halloween, most of his own House and half the others would detest the little brat. Remus, though, liked him. Nicky reminded him of someone. He couldn't say who. He tended to say Cambri, but that could be because Cambri was on his mind lately. Cambri was on his mind even more than Sirius was. 


	5. LateNight Wanderings

Disclaimer – I own anything you don't recognize. My friend owns Cambri. J.K. Rowling owns EVERYTHING else, and more power to 'er.  
  
Author's note – Italics and boldface still not working. Reviews are delightful, as I am not at all convinced that anyone reads these, except my friend and her friends that she's bullied into reading. And as for you, Me Who Else – sure, I suppose Dominic Cole (Dominic Phineas Cole, as he would remind you) would be considered cute if you were into eleven-year- olds. But he's going to be very cute when he's ... oh, say, sixteen.  
  
Chapter Five Late-Night Wanderings  
  
"Silence Not a sound from the pavement Has the moon lost her memory She is smiling alone."  
—Andrew Lloyd Webber  
  
That Saturday night, Remus was plagued once again with insomnia. Having nothing to wake up for in the morning, Remus went prowling. So did Ginny Weasley. So did Dominic Cole. And so did a few others.  
It was Ginny that Remus ran into first. He saw her standing in a shaft of sickle moonlight, looking rather lost and waifish, the latticework in the window casting shadows over her bright hair. There was no glass in the window, and the cold air was bracing. Far away, he could smell the lake.  
"Is that you, Miss Weasley?" he asked kindly, and she leapt about a foot into the air.  
"P-professor Lupin," she faltered. "I – I couldn't sleep and –  
"I understand perfectly," Remus said mildly. It may have been the moonlight, but Ginny looked washed out, her eyes haunted and mournful. "I get those feelings too. I had them tonight." He paused, then offered her a shy, conspiratorial grin. "I won't tell if you won't."  
Ginny smiled tentatively back. "It's Saturday, after all," she murmured. "Thanks for not giving me detention."  
"Oh, I've had practice," said Remus, hoping to cheer her up. He came to stand next to her at the window. "Dumbledore made me a prefect in my fifth year, in hope I'd exercise some control over my friends, but – let's say they had very few detentions that year. What's one your mind?"  
Ginny smiled at him wanly, still looking troubled. "Professor," she said unsurely, "have they told you what happened last year? With – me, and – the Chamber of Secrets?"  
Remus was being confided in again. He could smell it. "No," he said quietly. "I was told very little about the details, and I wasn't aware you were ever involved. Were you Petrified? I thought it was Miss Granger, but –  
"It was," Ginny said miserably. "I can't believe no one told you. You- Know-Who was possessing me. I found a journal, and if I wrote to it, he could write back. You-Know – Tom could write back to me, and for a long time I wrote to him every day."  
"And you've been remembering that?" Remus asked softly. Yes – this he understood. "You feel like you were tainted by him." Ginny nodded vehemently, looking relieved. All right, thought Remus. My turn to confide a little. "Something similar happened to me once – and Ginny, I'm trusting your discretion on this – keep it a secret, if you would. I would rather not talk about the details, but I'll repeat something a dear friend once told me: Something that happens to you sometimes doesn't affect who you are. Especially if you don't want it."  
Ginny looked, if anything, even more miserable and frightened. "But I practically invited him!" she wailed. "I told him everything about me, and about Harry and Ron – what if something happened to Ron? And I felt sorry for him, I thought he must be lonely, and it felt – it felt special, that he talked to me. I always felt sorry for him. I liked him a lot."  
Remus felt a stir of compassion. He had no such guilt as this. "Anyone would have done the same, Ginny," he said gently. "You needed a friend. Everyone needs friends. And it's good when someone listens to you." Tell me about it. "You couldn't have known. You were a lot younger – don't look at me like that, you're much wiser after the fact than before – and there was no way for you to know who you were talking to."  
"Thanks," said Ginny miserably. She rested her forehead on the bars of the window, just as a heavy cloud drifted across the moon, leaving them in relative darkness. Finally, she spoke again, in a tired, amused voice. "What must you think of me, spilling everything to you after I've barely known you a week."  
"I think you're a very brave young woman who's coping with a very big problem," Remus said gently. It was true. As everything had lately, the thought led to Cambri. We talked just like this, the night she took my dream – Cambri had been a brave woman, like Ginny. Unlike Ginny, though, she hadn't even confided her problems in the man she loved – just Remus. Ginny was much more innocent. The redheaded young lady had trusted another near-stranger the previous year, with disastrous results. One of these days her tattered innocence would be torn completely to shreds, and Remus cynically doubted that it would be painless.  
As Ginny drew breath to speak again, Remus heard light footsteps in the shadowed dark behind him. He reacted with a reflex protective instinct, pulling Ginny behind a stone column. Squinting in the darkness, Remus could make out nothing – except, maybe, a slight figure, a child's figure. Or were his eyes fooling him?  
Suddenly a second figure seemed to leap out of the darkness. Details were invisible, but the voice said it was a woman. "Nicky."  
"Just for once, as a special favor, couldn't you say 'hello'?" responded the irritated voice of Dominic. Ginny gasped softly.  
"Is someone here?" the woman asked sharply.  
A pause. "I don't think so," said Nicky, sounding less sure of himself. "Let's go in the classroom. Then we can be sure."  
Two sets of footsteps receded. "It's all right," said Remus to the frightened girl. "It's nothing. I just panicked. Can you find your way back to your dormitory? It all looks different in the dark. I'd hate it if you tripped on the stairs and broke your neck.  
"I'll find my way," said Ginny, just as the moon nudged the cloud aside, to shine out again in sickle splendor.  
"What were you about to say?" Remus asked.  
"Silly of me," said Ginny, not meeting his eyes. "Dominic – you know Dominic Cole – he looks a lot like Tom, but ... it's stupid. Vapors."  
"Same as me panicking when some other late-night wanderers came up behind us," Remus said wryly. "Does he really? How odd."  
"Very odd," said Ginny, "and he won't stay in a room with me – or any of my brothers."  
"Probably coincidence," he told the girl comfortingly. "Surely coincidence. Thank you for the conversation, Miss Weasley. And –"he added, feeling foolish – "thank you for trusting me. You've a good, innocent heart."  
She gave him a little smile and walked away up the corridor. The moment she rounded the corner, Remus set off toward the door which had opened and shut a moment before. Drawing near, he stopped and listened, silent and still as a predator learns to be.  
"Well," the woman was saying heavily, "I suppose that can't be helped. Still liking your classes, Nicky?"  
"Yes," he said. "I like it a great deal. It's too easy, though."  
Remus strained for the nuances of the woman's voice, trying to figure out where he'd heard it before, as she said quietly, "It was easy for me, too. But you might make a little effort at making friends."  
"Friends come and go," said Nicky.  
"Enemies accumulate," his companion pointed out.  
Remus could picture the humorless smile on the boy's face. "Very true. An enemy in the right place can be valuable. I'm going to bed. 'Night."  
"Good night," said the woman. Remus withdrew behind another convenient stone column as Dominic left the room, walking purposefully in the same direction Ginny had gone. As soon as the boy had turned the corner, Remus entered the classroom he had just vacated.  
"Cambri?" Remus said softly into the shadows. "Cambri? Was it you?"  
He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and turned – but it was only a low shadow. Doubtless he'd startled a mouse. There were sure to be a few, in a castle this size. He could leave out bait, some full moon, Remus thought with dark and horribly unfunny humor, and simply eat them. Do the house-elves a favor. His human mind wouldn't appreciate the idea, but the wolf side would be pleased. Well pleased.  
"Cambri?" he said one last time, then uneasily dismissed it all as a fancy built from washed-out colors, shadowy stone, a girl's confession and the ever-present moon. 


	6. Lessons

Disclaimer – All I want for Christmas is world peace, the legalization of gay marriage, harsher punishments for parole violators, and ownership of Harry Potter. However, world leadership isn't cooperating, and it's a good bet J.K. Rowling won't either.  
  
Author's Note – things start happening in this chapter! Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers – especially you, TPoR, and you, Sulwyn – wait, you're the only reviews I've gotten! No one loves me. Anywho, chapter seven will be up as soon as I figure out how to compensate for the fact that the italics won't show up.  
  
Chapter Six Lessons  
  
"Hello my friend we meet again It's been a while where should we begin Feels like forever."  
—Creed  
  
That Monday in class, Remus spent the first few minutes reviewing the previous week's lessons. "Come, now," he said patiently. "Someone must know. Anyone? ... Anyone at all. Nicky, put your book away, please."  
The boy looked up, startled. "Why did you call me that?"  
"Sorry," Remus apologized.  
"I don't mind," said Dominic. "You can call me that."  
Remus returned to the lesson. After class, he stopped Dominic. "I'm sorry for using the nickname," he said. "I knew a Dominic once who went by Nicky, so it seemed appropriate." The lie came smoothly.  
Dominic gave him an odd smile. "My mum calls me Nicky. I don't mind, as long as it's not another student calling me that." He lied even better than Remus did.  
  
The year passed as school years do, jumping from one minor crisis to the next, and staff and students all unconsciously marking the end of each month as the calendar marches toward June. This year, of course, was an eventful one, with the excitement of Sirius Black, sighted closer and closer to the school, but somehow or other, normal life went on. Remus didn't let the excitement affect his classes; he taught what he'd always wanted to teach, taught as he loved teaching. His students liked him, and he was finally getting used to the taste of the Wolfsbane Potion. He remembered no more forgotten friends. He even managed to put Sirius's escape out of his mind for days at a time. So it went until May came along.  
On a Wednesday in May, Hermione Granger's ferret came to class.  
Remus gathered that she'd originally intended to get an owl, then considered a cat, but Persia the ferret had captured her heart. He'd heard all this because of the ongoing drama between Hermione and Ron Weasley. Persia, it seemed, loved to torture Ron's fat and shabby rat, and this was a constant source of tension between Harry's two friends. Remus had never seen the rat or the ferret until today.  
On the day in question, they were discussing the vampire essay when Miss Lavender Brown screeched. A little creature scuttled past her and took refuge under Remus's desk. Lavender leaped onto her chair, and a very red- faced Hermione rushed to front of the room to coax her pet from under the teacher's desk. "I'm sorry," she wailed. "I didn't know – she must have been in my bag, I thought she was still sleeping in my drawer – "  
"Perfectly all right," said Remus, wondering how on earth the creature could fit into Hermione's book-laden bag. He paused, then asked, "What – is it?" The tiny beast had looked something like an elongated rat – no doubt explaining Lavender's reaction.  
"My ferret," Hermione said miserably, now positively ruby, as she scooped her pet from the shelter of Remus's desk. Remus nodded, understanding immediately. She – the ferret, not Hermione – was scrabbling for purchase underneath. "Persia," Hermione scolded, "you disturbed the whole class."  
"It's all right, Hermione," Remus said firmly. He reached out to stroke the little animal, which fixed him with a stony green-hued glare. Hermione returned to her seat and the lesson resumed.  
Remus was a little shaken. He'd managed not to think about Cambri for a bit, to put her out of his mind, along with all her strange connections, but this encounter had jarred loose something more. Cambri had been an Animagus. And the form she'd taken?  
That of a ferret, of course.  
So, when a woman opened his door that night, Remus was not surprised. "I've been waiting for you to notice me," she said. "Really, it's about time."  
"Cambri," said Remus. 


	7. Things Come Clear

Disclaimer – the plant is Ms. Rowling's, I just like to water it. I even stole this disclaimer from someone else, because I thought it was clever. I just water the plant until it starts saying "Feed me, Seymour – I mean, feed me, Chelsea!"  
  
Author's Note – sorry for the stupid Little Shop of Horrors joke, but I'm upset because my drama teacher said that, unless I found a magic potion to make me a baritone, I couldn't be the plant. Dammit. Okay, I hope you're able to understand this without italics. Paragraphs enclosed in little dashes like this --- are part of the dialogue from that summer when they were sixteen.  
  
Chapter Seven Things Come Clear  
  
"Pawns in the game are not Victims of chance."  
—Sting  
  
"Cambri," said Remus.  
"Yes," said Cambri.  
She looked exactly as he remembered her, exactly as she had the day she married Sirius. He rose from his desk and embraced her, his friend, almost his sister. Cambri hugged him back with surprising strength, and kissed his cheek lightly. "I missed you," she told him.  
"I would have," Remus said mournfully.  
Cambri laughed. "I know. I know you would have. Dumbledore probably put a Memory Charm on you once I was missing and presumed dead. You knew too much about me, and if they'd caught you ... It turned out they already knew about my memory-thing, but if they'd found out about time travel it would have been awful."  
When Cambri had confided in Remus about her powers, who she was and where she came from, all those years ago, she'd told him that she was from a time twenty years in the future.  
---It started out as an experiment, she had told him. The closest thing I had to a father had just died, and so I came back in time, thinking maybe it would help if I could see him again. And then I fell in love with him.---  
---Sirius? Remus had demanded. Sirius was your father?---  
Thinking: That has got to be some strange form of incest, even if they are the same age. Thinking: How can that be? She looks nothing like him.  
--- No, my godfather, Cambri replied. I have a twin, and my twin is Harry Potter. James and Lily's son. But I left that time, and now I know why you're not allowed to travel back more than a day or two ... because I changed a few things, and now I can't get back.---  
She had revealed more, to Remus's astonishment: Lily and James would be married and have a son. Sirius would be named godfather. The Potters were scheduled to die in five years, leaving their son behind with a scar, reminder of an encounter with Voldemort that he had survived.  
In Cambri's time, there had been twins. Cambri had a curse scar too. Voldemort was alive because the Avada Kedavra had bounced, and an eddy of it hit the little girl hiding under the floorboards.  
---I was already talking and doing math, Cambri explained, so they understandably didn't tell anyone about me. ---  
Knowing Cambri now, Remus believed it. Sirius gave up Harry, handing him over to be raised by Muggle relatives. He rescued Cambri from the wreckage of the house and left her at a Muggle orphanage for a couple of days, in order to avenge the Potters. Then he was thrown in Azkaban for the murder. Remus was not entirely sure how this was supposed to have happened – or who would have believed it – and Cambri was very vague on the whole subject.  
So Cambri ended up in foster care, and returned the wizarding world at the age of fifteen. She took classes with her own age students at Hogwarts and outshone every one of them in the class. Once again, Remus believed it. She said nothing of where she'd been for the intervening years – hadn't she'd gotten her letters? In answer, Cambri showed him slightly scarred wrists.  
--- Handcuffs, she said shortly, and continued. ---  
That summer, Cambri had moved through time, intending to come back soon. And she never had returned.  
--- And now, she finished, I've changed enough that everything ahead is gone. We've started over. And the crucial difference is, Harry's twin isn't going to exist. I am. Cambri Terrangs. And if Sirius decides to grow up in the near future, probably Cambri Black. ---  
--- So Lily and James are going to die? asked Remus, justifiably upset. And their son is going to live with some horrible relative?---  
--- No, Cambri said grimly. No, I've changed enough for that. ---  
But now Remus saw that she had changed almost nothing.  
"Cambri," said Remus plaintively, "you told me you'd changed enough that the Potters would live. What happened?"  
"I told James something I didn't tell Sirius," Cambri said wearily.  
"You see –"  
"First tell me where you've been," Remus interrupted.  
Cambri sighed. "Order business," she said. "I was the only one who knew enough to keep an eye on Voldemort. I got a message from Dumbledore after the Potters died – stay in place. Probably didn't want to tell me about Sirius, though it would have made things a deal less complicated if he had. That was the last I heard from him.  
"And I couldn't leave. Every time I was going to come home for a while, something came up. I wrote letters to Sirius, and reports to Dumbledore, and some to you – but somehow they didn't get through. Maybe some killer bird was shadowing me and killing my owls, I don't know. I didn't think anything of the fact that I didn't get anything back – it might have revealed my position, after all."  
Remus was massaging his temples. "I remember now," he said abruptly. "Dumbledore put the Memory Charm on me for while you were gone. It was strong, but it was temporary – and being back here – it wore off."  
Cambri nodded. "That makes sense. Anyway, five years passed like that. Five years. I was too deep undercover to even get news. And then I was caught – by two faithful Death Eaters. I know I changed something there ... I don't know how they knew to find each other ... one of them was supposed to be pretending to be on the Ministry's side, the other was supposed to be locked up and under the Imperius Curse ... But that doesn't matter. They knew that Voldemort couldn't be really dead – and they had a certain journal, in which Voldemort had preserved himself at sixteen. The same journal that Harry and Ginny had so much trouble with. They knew about my memories, God knows how. And they wanted me to bring him back, so that the life-force of Lord Voldemort could dwell in Tom Riddle. Doubtless they expected great rewards. Anyway, I escaped them, stayed undercover for another four years – until this year. I've been staying close to Harry this year, to protect him."  
Remus's mind was working furiously. "All right," he said slowly. "That makes sense. But – who's Dominic? You were talking to him earlier –"  
Cambri laughed delightedly. "I knew someone was listening, but he didn't believe me. When you called him Nicky in class I was almost sure."  
"How does he fit into this?"  
"Oh," said Cambri. "I just picked him up along the way, about four years ago. He doesn't have any parents, and he was an awfully cute seven- year-old." Suddenly she stopped with a gasp. She was gazing at the Marauder's Map, which lay on Remus's desk. "Moony," she said sharply. "Look."  
Remus looked. Then he jerked his head up. "I'm going," he said, and ran out the door.  
The prospect of a reunion with Sirius was more than tempting, but there was something Cambri had to do first. She went in search of Nicky.  
  
Author's Note – for more on Cambri's pre-time travel life, read Sulwyn of the North's "Fading into Something." 


	8. Revelations

Disclaimer – all J.K. Rowling's, in case you somehow missed the previous seven disclaimers.  
  
Author's Note – we finally find out everything in this chapter. If you're bored sometime, after you read this, look up all three of Dominic's names, you'll probably get the joke. And milk and cookies for my reviewers. Someone – here's more on Dominic, like you asked ... and the answer to your other question also lies here.  
  
Chapter Eight Revelations  
  
"Here is the house Where it all happens."  
—Depeche Mode  
  
"Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. "'But Professor Lupin ... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew ... it just can't be true, you know it can't...' "'Why can't it be true?' Lupin said calmly ...'" —from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban  
  
"It just can't be true, you know it can't ..."  
"Yes," said another voice in the doorway. "It most certainly can."  
Everyone turned in perfect unison, including Crookshanks. Remus passed a hand over his eyes. In the doorway was Dominic Phineas Cole, looking very young. Behind him stood Cambri.  
"Cole?" said Ron disbelievingly. "Holy hell, how many other people are in this story?" Ignoring Ron's voice like commentary from a literary critic who'd never read the book he was criticizing, Remus waited for another twist thrown into his already corkscrewed life.  
Cambri was looking at Sirius, and his eyes were fastened on his face like she was a messenger from God. "Cambri," he said hoarsely.  
Cambri took three running steps and threw her arms around him. He clung to her, breathing in the scent of her curly black hair. "Cambri," he said again.  
"Yes," she whispered.  
Hermione looked like she was about to cry from confusion. Remus appreciated the emotion. Cambri and Sirius broke apart, sensing that this was neither the time nor the place for a reunion, and everyone stared at each other for a moment.  
Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "All right," she said. "Professor Lupin, tell us how Pettigrew can be alive, please."  
Remus obliged. Cambri watched him with great sympathy as he revealed everything – all the things he had slaved so long to hide. Once he had finished, she took over again. "So, you see, little Peter outsmarted us," she said bitterly. "I told James never to trust him, but I couldn't say that to Sirius. I couldn't. And Sirius didn't tell the Potters he was going to switch. By the time the charm was actually performed, I was out of the country, doing work for Dumbledore – and I never knew what happened until it was far too late."  
"Who are you?" Harry demanded, staring at her.  
Remus smiled a little. "This is Cambri Black. She is the fifth, and last, Marauder," he said. "She joined us in the middle of fifth year. And she can turn into a ferret." They all waited for someone to make the connection.  
"Oh," said Hermione softly. "Oh. I see. You're Persia." And then, her voice going shrill: "Who's Hedwig, then? Professor Lupin's girlfriend?"  
An odd expression took Remus's face and he didn't answer. "No," Sirius said softly, in his harsh and croaky voice. That was what brought it home to Cambri the most; his voice, once so resonant, a voice people listened to – now as wasted as the man himself. "No, Remus's fiancee was killed. I heard one of the other prisoners talking about it." Hermione looked stricken.  
Cambri stiffened, raising her eyes to her friend's face. "Marsha was killed, along with our unborn daughter Ellen," Remus said quietly.  
"Oh, Moony, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have asked, I noticed you only had the one picture. I'm sorry."  
Remus raised a hand and lowered it, a familiar think-nothing-of-it gesture that had always made Cambri think of a saint's benediction. "Anyway," he continued. "That's the story. And it's up to you whether to believe it or not."  
There was silence, broken only by the frantic squeaking of Scabbers. Hermione spoke up timidly. "But...Professor...Mr. and Mrs. Black..." Cambri stifled a misplaced giggle. "I can't...even if Peter is alive, even if he is Scabbers, that doesn't prove anything. Maybe it's... I don't know..."  
"Circumstantial evidence?" Remus suggested.  
Hermione nodded vigorously. "It's a very neat story, but – maybe it's too neat. It all ties up so well. There's so much coincidence. And if Peter was a Death Eater, why was he your friend?"  
She was interrupted by Dominic. They'd all forgotten he was there, and his voice made them jump. "I know that it's true," he said. "I knew the plan. And I knew Peter, and he really was a rat. He went to Voldemort as soon as he was sure that he'd be protected and rewarded there."  
"Waiting for him to be the biggest bully in the playground," Sirius snarled.  
"You can't have even been alive," said Harry.  
Nicky smiled humorlessly. "Oh, trust me, I was alive. You see ..." He took a deep breath. "I am...I was Tom Marvolo Riddle. I was Lord Voldemort."  
Remus raised his eyebrows, Hermione gave a gasp that was almost a shriek, Ron let out a yell of frustration, and Harry just stared. Sirius looked far beyond being shocked at this point. Cambri went to Dominic and placed an arm around his slender shoulders. Dominic was as tense as piano wire, and she doubted he noticed.  
"Yes," said Dominic. "What you met, Harry, last year, was a shadow, an imitation of what that memory was supposed to be. Cambri was caught when she was on business for Dumbledore, and they had the journal. They made her use her special powers to make me. But she had learned some control, and she didn't do everything they told her to do."  
"I have you to thank for that, Remus," Cambri explained quickly. "Remember, back when we shared a room at James' house ... your nightmares ..."  
Remus nodded heavily. "And you could soothe the memories without even waking me up. I might have guessed you'd gain more control."  
The silence screamed. Finally Ron put it out of its misery. "You little bastard," he said hotly. "You almost killed my sister."  
"I didn't," said Nicky defensively. "That was me later. Most of what I really am is here." He touched his chest. "Cambri brought me back at seven, nine years younger than the memory was meant to be. The spirit of lord Voldemort couldn't really inhabit a seven-year-old, a child, without destroying it. That might still have been his plan for me, I think now, but we got away. The journal was supposed to be able to bring Tom Riddle full to life the instant anyone wrote in it. But most of it went into me. All I have is this body ... and my memories. I kept a great many of those. It hurts," he added reflectively. "I don't like them much. But anyway. Because I have those memories, I remember the plan. I remember when that traitor told me...him...him-me...that he could give up the location of James, Lily, and Harry Potter. I know that that rat is Peter Pettigrew. So there you go. Enough evidence to convince even you, Hermione."  
He turned away, shrugging Cambri off violently, and went to the tiny corner window. He stood there, looking out at an eastern horizon, over which the moon had not yet risen. His eyes widened suddenly as he started reckoning up the date. He didn't know the time of moonrise – they would just have to hope. Very softly, he cursed.  
Harry found his voice at last, staring at Dominic. "Cole," he said quietly, "how can you be Riddle? And if you are, why are you in Gryffindor?"  
A spare smile, lost on the others, except for Cambri, who saw him in profile. "I argued with the hat for ten minutes. It couldn't decide, in the end, so it let me pick."  
"And you look like you used to?" said Hermione. "That must be why Ginny doesn't like you." Ron still looked enraged.  
Harry looked furiously at Sirius as though it was all his fault. "First I find out that my godfather is a murderer – then I find out that he isn't, but he keeps company with a werewolf, an illegal Animagus, and a miniaturized version of the man who did kill my parents."  
"I didn't know anything about this," said Sirius defensively. "And as you could probably tell, this is the first time in thirteen years I've actually seen Remus. Or Cambri."  
"Just stop!" Hermione said shrilly. "Everyone stop a minute." She buried her face in her hands, then turned to Nicky. "Are you really Lord Voldemort?" she asked.  
"No," said Nicky without turning around. "I was born from a memory of Lord Voldemort."  
"Close enough," Harry snarled.  
Cambri spoke. "Not close enough. He's mine more than anything. I made him."  
"That's not possible," said Hermione.  
"Oh?" Cambri said sweetly. "How about Ginny, then? How do you think Riddle was able to use her? She has the same gift, just not as strong. If it worked once, it would work again, right? She was too young to have learned any control. And, you, Ron, has your sister ever picked up on any of your memories? You probably dreamed them – there's a certain time of night when the hippocampus becomes more active and the subconscious starts taking impulses from it, so you dream of memories. Has Ginny ever picked up on them?"  
Ron looked a little unnerved. "Once," he said slowly, "or twice."  
"Probably more than that, and she just didn't tell you. And notice," Cambri went on, "that Tom almost came back with her power. Now, I know how to control my gifts a little, so I knocked nine years off the memory and turned him into Nicky. Is it so hard to believe? Harry can talk to snakes, your sister and I can talk to memories."  
Hermione nodded doubtfully. "I suppose so."  
Cambri looked at everyone else. "Any further objections? Or can we proceed, and prove to you once and for all that Peter is alive?"  
Everyone traded glances and nodded.  
"Well, then," said Remus. "Let's see who the rat really is. I won't hurt him if he is a rat, Ron. I promise you that." He raised his wand and cast the spell. 


	9. Flashing Back

Disclaimer – if this is mine, I'm a ferret. If you recognize it then it belongs to the brilliant and wise Ms. Rowling. Cambri belongs to my brilliant and wise friend.  
  
Author's Note – this is basically the last real chapter, and I think it's one of the best, but there'll be an epilogue. That one was too short to count as a chapter. Do enjoy.  
  
Chapter Nine Flashing Back  
  
"This is stranger than I thought Six different ways inside my heart."  
—The Cure  
  
Cambri scrabbled over tree roots, feeling tiny and insignificant in her whiskered form, but not daring to transform back. Remus was nearby. She tracked him by smell. She knew his scent well, the cold animal musk of wolf and the warm, mild humanity of Remus, blending together into a lukewarm silver-grey scent. Though the moon bathed everything in a cold blue glow, she couldn't see well enough to follow the werewolf by sight. When they were young, on his good nights she had sometimes seen him in the form of a great ash grey wolf. She found him beautiful in that form, beautiful and very sad. She wished she'd been able to see him after the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion, maybe happier, maybe unhurt, maybe even enjoying the magnificent form of the wolf.  
She could also smell a dog. When the two trails diverged, she risked a brief transformation, looking around from her higher viewpoint. The path of the werewolf-scent had led toward the forest. The dog-scent headed for the mirror-sleek lake. There was blood on the grass, and the air was cold. Very cold.  
She spied Sirius, and ran toward him, just as Harry came from another direction. He reached Sirius first, and dropped to his knees next to the unconscious man. Cambri ran down the hill, stumbled, regained her feet, and half-sprinted, half-tripped the rest of the distance. She transformed to avoid any more roots or holes, and streaked to Sirius's side, where she became human again.  
Sirius's shoulder was torn open, but it was a wound from claws, not teeth. Cambri was more worried that he was unconscious. He was pale, gaunt and disordered, and he looked a bit dead.  
Suddenly she shivered – they all did – as the cold swept over her, and with it the feeling that she would never know another moment's content. She grasped Sirius's thin hands in hers, trying to keep in mind that he was out of prison, she was with her husband again, and he still loved her –  
– but the dementors were closing in, and it was no use pretending she couldn't feel it, as she was swept away by the tide of memories.  
  
---"The reason you have to stay in your room, Cambri," Lily explained gently, "is because you are very, very smart for your age, and if anyone heard about you, they might want to take you away from us. Voldemort would take you and try to use you. And Dumbledore said – do you remember Professor Dumbledore?" Cambri nodded solemnly. "Professor Dumbledore told us that the Ministry of Magic might think you were useful, too. So that's why we're hiding you – because you're a little different, and we don't want to lose you. Understand?" Cambri nodded with the gravity that is the sole province of toddlers. She liked being told that she was smart, but she wasn't so happy with the idea of being different. She hated being different. Lily nodded too, smiling distractedly, ignorant of her daughter's passionate anger.  
Cambri fought the memories hard, but it was a fight no one had yet won.  
--- Alone in the dark below the floor, Cambri listened in terror to the hurried footsteps up above, to her father yelling, her brother wailing loudly, and her mother screaming. A high, cold voice spoke strange and terrible words, and then there was a thud. A thud that sounded awfully like something soft and heavy striking the floorboards. Dust sifted down onto Cambri's tearstained face. And then a flash of green light – pain screaming tears noise couldn't move, couldn't breathe –  
The claustrophobia gripped Cambri in a vise. She forgot that she was not a child anymore, that she now had her wand. These things were unimportant now, the memories coldly shouldering her thoughts aside.  
--- Her parents had died fifteen years ago, and left Cambri alone. Now she lived with her beloved godfather – but no more, because Sirius was dead. Abruptly, ignobly dead, knocked through a veil by his Death Eater cousin. Sirius had been ready, but his goddaughter hadn't. Cambri simmered a crocodile heart and drew off the resulting broth. She couldn't believe she was actually going to make herself swallow all this, but to see Sirius and James again, young and happy, it was worth it. To see her friends and parents in their prime, at her age, just for a few days ...  
Cambri bowed her head, grasping Sirus's hands, telling herself that she wasn't alone. It all blurred through her head – the Willow prank that nearly killed Snape, the fight with Sirius in seventh year, coming all alone to bear witness to the death of James and Lily – these aren't my memories, these belong to Sirius – Remus crying his eyes out when his shameful secret was discovered –  
--- That dreadful funeral when Karenina Potter succumbed to her illness at long last. She stood with Sirius and James, all three crying for the woman who had been all their mother, hand in hand in hand like children. Cyril, James's father, sobbing with the breathless cries of a truly miserable man, the rain washing tears from their faces.  
--- Ginny Weasley was lying on the floor, pale and still, and a familiar boy stood over her. "She won't wake," he said –  
Damn it, that's not mine, it's Harry's –  
--- "No, not Harry, please not Harry!"  
--- "Stand aside, silly girl, stand aside –  
Cambri bent her head and let the memories come, punishing her like the brief, sharp cracks of a heavy whip.  
--- Tomorrow's sleepy sun peeking over the blankets of horizon, begging for five more minutes, as Cambri, chained, watched through a window. A blow returned her attention to Lucius Malfoy. He had a journal in his hand. He explained what he wished her to do, tortured her for hours while the sun peeked in and went away from the terrible sight. Finally, weakened, she looked up at the face of the translucent teenaged boy. As he began to draw on her powers, she wrested away just as much control as she could, and concentrated on receding, on time moving backwards. She knew all about the regression of time – she rolled away the years until a solid boy stood before her. Very solid, alive, but very young – about seven, in fact – and confused. A blow from Malfoy, and a punishment Cambri would never, could never forget. A punishment that made her frightened even of escape (though I did escape in the end, we escaped together)  
--- An eight-year-old boy asleep on her bedroom carpet with the quilt from his bed, face tearstained. Cambri rose from her lonely bed at dawn and found him there, clutching the blanket, so fast asleep she didn't wake him with her hand. Nightmares? She'd certainly had them. Sirius was in prison, and to keep Dominic from the Death Eaters she had to stay so deeply undercover that she dared not even try to save him. Three years, he'd get out in three years, she reminded herself, as she turned back to her creation. A brief touch confirmed her suspicions; Nicky remembered everything he used to be. To have seen such things, done such things, was far to much for a little boy. Cambri smoothed his dark hair back from his brow. I've created a monster, she thought heavily, without even a trace of humor. In the Muggle novel, the soulless thing had killed its creator – and then itself. She sat next to Nicky, guilt and grief hurting her inside.  
Cambri briefly pressed her lips to Sirius's badly shaven face. Prongs – she thought half-deliriously. You were always the only one who was really good at the Patronus Charm. Remus isn't here, Prongs – I can't do it –  
She passed out cold.  
  
She awakened later, much later, and immediately panicked. Her eyes flew open and focused on a silver-haired old man – Dumbledore, looking not much older, but a bit more tired.  
"Sirius," she whispered.  
"Sirius is fine for the moment," said Dumbledore. "I have done all I can for him, and it's up to Harry and Hermione now."  
Cambri knew this ought to comfort her. She thought she remembered that it should. But her memories of specific events past age five in her own reality, the reality where she was Harry's twin – those memories were very, very foggy, and sometimes false. Except the one where she left there.  
"I have listened to Sirius's story," Dumbledore said calmly, "and I believe him. The mention of you made me think of a way. I sent Harry and Hermione to rescue Buckbeak the hippogriff, and told them where Sirius is. I then returned to this time three hours before and sent my past self to wait for them and talk to Sirius. In an hour, Harry and Hermione will be returning – whether they have been successful or not. If they are successful, they will probably land on the West Tower to be dropped off and come downstairs. If you wish to join Sirius, I will accompany you there, and you can wait for him."  
"How did I get here?" Cambri asked blankly.  
Dumbledore smiled a little. "Professor Snape found the three of you – Sirius, Harry, and yourself – beside the lake. Something drove the dementors back. It seems Professor Snape remembered your, ah, relative kindness when you were young, and left you there so you, as Sirius's wife, could avoid awkward questioning. Hagrid found you."  
She looked around. She was in Hagrid's cabin. "But – what about Nicky? Dominic," she amended.  
"I haven't seen him," said Dumbledore to Cambri's worried face. "I don't think there's anything we can do. Now tell me, please. I have been wondering. Who is he?"  
"He used to be Tom Riddle," Cambri said distractedly. "The journal had a lot more life-force originally, but I took most of it to make Dominic. Please think of him as my son, though. He's the closest thing." She sat up quickly. "He can take care of himself. He's very independent. Please, sir, can we go to the tower?"  
"Of course," said Dumbledore, rising and offering his hand gallantly to help her up. "Let us go. On the way, would you mind telling me more about Dominic?"  
"There isn't much more to tell," said Cambri as they set off across the grounds. "I was forced to make him come to life, but when I was sharing a room with Remus at the Potters' I used to pick up on his memories sometimes. At a certain time of night people tend to dream nightmares. And since we were both picking it up, I eventually learned to control my powers, so that I could make the nightmares easier on both of us. And I used the control I learned to turn sixteen-year-old Tom into a little seven- year-old boy. So I've been raising him."  
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Your powers. I placed a Memory Charm on Remus after you vanished ... but it was meant to be temporary. Just so that he couldn't reveal any information on your mental powers, or on time travel. Unfortunately, once it became apparent you weren't coming back, I'm afraid I let him continue to forget you. It appears to have worn off, however."  
"Yes," said Cambri. "He figured it was because you meant it to be  
temporary."  
"At the time, I didn't really believe you dead," said Dumbledore as they reached the front steps of the castle. "But when I didn't hear from you, even after Sirius was imprisoned, I was fairly sure. Others in the Order, I think, assumed that you had left Sirius when you discovered his treachery."  
"I wasn't getting any news by then," said Cambri. "I was undercover in the uncharted wilds. By the time I heard, I was even deeper undercover. Nicky was only seven, and I had to protect him from being found by the Death Eaters, so we stayed hidden. Speak of the devil," she added with great relief, as Nicky ran up to them.  
"Peter's gone," he said. "He's not on the grounds. But I'm going to find him. He can't go anywhere that I won't be able to find him." Nicky glanced at Dumbledore.  
"He knows," said Cambri.  
Nicky nodded. "All right. Professor, may I be excused from the last few days of school? I can find Peter Pettigrew. He won't get away from me. I can follow him." He sounded quite determined.  
"I don't like the thought of sending you alone," said Dumbledore.  
Nicky showed a flash of teeth. "I'm not eleven, Professor, as you now know. I am fully as capable as any adult wizard."  
"That would work," said Cambri. "That would work. You can track Peter, he's your Death Eater. And when you find him ..."  
"I'll bring him back alive," said Nicky. "Alive and probably kicking. I can go after him now if you like. Just get me a little money, so I can eat, and let me find some Muggle clothes to wear."  
Cambri turned to Dumbledore. "He can do it. I know he can."  
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "I'll take care of seeing you off. Get a good night's sleep first, and you can set off early tomorrow morning."  
Dominic started to dash upstairs, then turned back. "Cambri?" he said uncertainly. "Can I still live with you?"  
"Of course," said Cambri. She touched his shoulder lightly. "Of course you can. And I can't wait for you to really meet Sirius. He'll like you."  
Nicky nodded. "So you're going with him."  
"Naturally," said Cambri. "Bye, Nicky." Her voice was oddly tender as he turned and ran upstairs.  
Dumbledore watched Cambri, reflecting on how much she'd gentled. He was still a little unsure about the fact that a miniature Lord Voldemort had been running around his school, but he was proud of Cambri. She must have learned, grown a great deal indeed, if she could accept this..  
They started upstairs. "I shall take my leave," said Dumbledore once they were up there. "It has been very good to see you again, Cambri."  
She nodded formally. "Thank you, Professor. For everything. Thank you so much."  
Dumbledore nodded and left her.  
A quarter of an hour later, three people on a great grey beast landed on the battlements. Cambri ran to them just as Harry and Hermione were getting off and Sirius was asking after Ron. Cambri bowed to the hippogriff, which was staring haughtily at her, and it bent its neck. She hurried closer. Sirius caught her arm and pulled her up in front of him. He kissed her hair lightly, then pulled the hippogriff around. "We'll see each other again," Sirius said firmly. "You are ... truly your father's son, Harry ..."  
And as Cambri nodded her agreement, they took off. Past the great beating wings, she could see Harry and Hermione going down the stairs.  
As soon as they leveled off, Sirius bent forward to speak in Cambri's ear. "Where to, love?" he asked.  
"A deserted island somewhere," Cambri said immediately.  
"Where I can get a bath," said Sirius, so fervently that Cambri  
laughed at him.  
She turned a little on the hippogriff's shoulders to smile at Sirius. "And after that," she said softly, "we can catch up on thirteen years. I missed you so much."  
"And you're all that kept me sane," Sirius replied. "Even ... remember that fight in seventh year ... even that wasn't as bad a memory because you were in it. We sound like one of those romance novels."  
Cambri, laughing, leaned her head back on his shoulder as he turned Buckbeak eastward. 


	10. Epilogue

Disclaimer – After ten chapters, I still have to rub my own nose in it by indicating that none of this is mine.  
  
Author's Note – I do hope you enjoyed all that. This is the end. Please review, even if you hated it. I'll use your flames to bake cookies with and send them to all my lovely reviewers.  
  
Chapter Ten Epilogue  
  
"Clean The cleanest I've been An end to the tears And the in-between years And the troubles I've seen." —Depeche Mode  
  
Dominic Cole returned to Gryffindor Tower. To his own surprise, he was tired. He wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight, though. He could never sleep after a night like that.  
Ginny Weasley was at the window, watching the full moon through the glass. She turned when he came in. It had been a long time since they were in a room together, and they regarded one another tensely. At last Ginny turned back to the window, and Dominic headed for the tower.  
Then, on about the sixth step, he heard Ginny's voice.  
"Dominic?" she said shyly.  
He turned around, startled, and descended about three steps.  
"I wondered ..." She was pink. "I wondered if you could help me a little. I'm having trouble with my Potions notes, because Professor Snape doesn't tell you what he's testing on, and I'm just not sure how ..." She trailed off.  
"Snape's greasy," said Nicky, not unkindly.  
Ginny giggled nervously. Dominic came back down the stairs. "Sure," he said. "What can I help you with?"  
She pointed to her notes. "Well, a couple of things. To start off with, what's the difference between an African and a Peruvian boomslang?"  
Nicky sat down at the table beside her and began to talk. Ginny went to bed an hour later, feeling much more confident about her Potions exam.  
Dominic Phineas Cole looked into the fire, ignoring the house-elves who stole in to clean, smiling a little.  
He ought to go to bed after all. Tomorrow would be a hard day.  
  
Terminus Quod Orsa 


End file.
